Epilogue: Despite

The home of Cedric's grandparents. Mr. and Mrs. Donnachaidh, looked as ancient and homey as when he had visited as a small child. The circle of standing stones around the edges of the property, to which the Family Wards were attached, stood as proud as ever, each bearing a Celtic rune. The old three story building, built out of pale grey stone and reddish oak, had it's double doors open welcomingly. About the lawn and in the dining room milled a crowd of family and friends, some Cedric could hardly remember. It was like nothing had changed, like this could be any family reunion; except everything had changed.

And it could not be mistaken for just any family reunion; grief hung over the home like the clouds in the sky. Those clouds couldn't decide whether or not to break with rain, so the weather had resolved to simply become an unyielding sea of miserable gray. Sometimes it would drizzle off and on, never leaving them any more than damp.

Yet at this moment, there were no tears. This was the wake, the celebration of the life she had lived and given to the world. Looking at the number of people gathered, Cedric could not help but feel overwhelmed by the physical representation of the lives she had touched with her own. But at the same time...it was strange, to see all the people who had cared about her gathered, when she was absent…

We need you mom, Cedric thought, for what felt like the hundredth time. I need you. He still did not know how he did not dissolve into tears every time he thought of her; the wound ached with a force so deep he was sure it would never heal.

"Hey," Harry said softly, his hand tightening around Cedric's. "I've got you. We'll get through this together. Now I'd really like to meet your grandparents."

A smile twitched at Cedric's face, "They've heard a lot about you."

"Good things?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow as they walked forward.

"Only good things to say," Cedric said, releasing Harry's hand to loop his arm around his boyfriend's shoulder. " Granaidh -you can call her granny, it'll make her smile-has been dying to meet you."

"I only wish it were under better circumstances," a soft voice, thick with a Scottish accent, said. Cedric turned to see the worn face of his grandmother, staring at them with gentle, caring eyes framed by grey hair. There was pain there; the pain of a mother who had outlived her child, yet despite that pain, Granaidh was doing what she did best-caring for others, moving about the congregation with her soothing presence. "Hello mo mhac óg . This must be Harry."

Despite the drizzling rain, which had just begun to pick up, the windows in this room of the house remained open. Resting on the bed, dressed in soft grey robes, surrounded on all sides by a ring of heather, was Thea's body. Her hands were crossed over her chest, over a wand of willow Harry did not recognize.

Sitting next to the bed in an armchair was an old man, his hands resting heavily on a wooden cane carved with runic symbols. His face was worn, wrinkled, and scarred. He turned as Harry, Cedric, and Amos entered.

" Seanair, " Cedric said softly, walking over to his grandfather and resting a hand on his shoulder. "I…"

"You have endured a great ordeal, mo mhac óg, " Mr. Donnachaidh said, using the cane to push himself to his feet and wrapping an arm around Cedric. "I had hoped, your mother had hoped, that the world was finally a safe place for you to grow up in. I see our hopes were in vain. But my daughter didn't die in vain," he said, as Cedric began to cry. "She chose to fight for you, and she would make that choice over and over again, until the end of time."

Cedric...

Part of Harry wanted to move to his soulmate as he watched Cedric sobbing into his grandfather's embrace, and a larger part knew he needed to give himself the space to confront his own pain. At the moment, there was someone else who loved Cedric who could take care of him. So he turned to Thea and struggled with his own emotions.

"Really, Harry, if you ever need it, you have a home with us…"

He was crying, tears that burned tearing their way silently out of his chest to stream down his face. It still seemed impossible that she would never sit up from that bed. In life she had been fiery and bright, a warmth that sought them out when they were coldest and provided comfort. In death, her chest still, her eyes closed, her skin pale and gray, Thea didn't look like herself at all.

There was a hole torn in the fabric of Harry's world, a hole that he had not known existed until she had filled it. The emptiness of that void hurt far worse than when he had not understood what it felt like for it to be filled.

And, Harry supposed, that was the risk all of them took with love.

Despite the pain burning in his chest, Harry could not help but feel incredibly grateful; grateful that in the time Thea had lived Harry had known her. In that time she had given him the gift of acceptance, of love-the pendant around his neck hung heavy with a weight it had not weeks prior.

The risk of loving was loss, but somehow love graced them with the strength to survive the pain of it. The alternative was no alternative at all; to live without love. That was to not live at all.

"Oh, Harry," Amos said softly, pulling him into a hug. Harry was too grateful for the support to be surprised. "We'll get through this."

Cedric, his father, his grandfather, and his grandmother led the procession from the home up to the crest of the hill. Thea's body, wrapped in white linen, was born between them, levitated by magic. Behind them followed the river of people who had gathered to mourn her passing.

The clouds had finally begun to break apart with the last drizzle of rain, letting the sunshine through in scattered rays. In the distance, a double rainbow had appeared, faint and barely visible against the grey-blue sky. It was beautiful in a somber, gentle sort of way that entirely fit this moment in time.

In keeping with the traditions of the Celtic Druidic blood that ran through her veins, the body of Althea Leana Diggory née Donnachaidh, Cedric's mother, left this world in a pyre of flame. On the Scottish highlands of her birth her loved ones held hands in concentric circles around her, some beginning to sing the words of a song of parting in Gaelic.

Cedric found his hand interlaced with Harry's, and despite all they had lost, despite all they had faced and would have to face in the coming days, he had never felt so hopeful. There were wounds in his soul that were deep, but there were people willing to help him heal.

Memories of his mother were weighing heavily on his heart. Over Christmas holidays she had told him, "The path you walk is your own, but you're not walking it alone." Earlier, just after the Death Eater attack when they had moved in with Sirius, she had told him, "Home is not a place, it's the people you hold close. It's what shields you from the darkness."

I'm not alone, Cedric thought, squeezing his soulmate's hand tightly. And, for the first time since that Portkey had ripped him out of St. Mungo's hospital, he let go of a knot of tension. He breathed out. He thought maybe, just maybe, back at Grimmauld, alone in the safety of their room, maybe he could actually start to talk about what had happened with Harry. Cedric wasn't broken.

In spite of the darkness, he was still loved and capable of loving.

End Part II